


Just us

by captainhurricane



Series: Kinktober 2017 [7]
Category: Berserk
Genre: Body Worship, F/F, Kinktober, Making Out, breast appreciation, thigh-higs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 06:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12292977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainhurricane/pseuds/captainhurricane
Summary: Sort-of-girlfriend spend a nice moment on the couch. Both bodies get appreciated.





	Just us

**Author's Note:**

> when will i follow the prompt? never
> 
> the word of the day is 'body worship'

It’s with great difficulty that Farnese wrenches herself free of her partner’s wandering hands and warm, open mouth. The same mouth that now begins to kiss Farnese’s jaw, the corner of her mouth and that little dimple on her right cheek.

“I’m just wondering, hey-“ she giggles, pushing Casca’s face away. Casca doesn’t retreat far, instead just grips Farnese’s hips tighter.

 

“What?” Casca’s nose is wrinkled. She’d probably prefer to go back to kissing. Farnese would like to go back to kissing and everything else but it’s been niggling her for a while, ever since they started doing this… thing.

 

Farnese can feel how hot her own cheeks are. She sits up, still straddling Casca’s waist.

“Um.”

 

Casca’s eyebrows lift. Her hands slide to Farnese’s thighs, teasing up the hem of her already short skirt. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

 

Now that they have stopped, Farnese begins to feel a little silly. Casca doesn’t seem like the type of a person to have self-doubts, right? Why would she need validation from Farnese? They’re not even girlfriends, they’re. Well. Something.

 

“Have I ever told you that, um,” Farnese starts, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. Casca’s hands remain on her thighs, the fingertips stroking just enough to keep Farnese warm. “That you’re really. And I mean really. And I see a whole bunch of beautiful people daily but you… wow. I wish I worked out as much as you.”

 

“I don’t work out that much,” Casca murmurs.

 

When Farnese looks back down, Casca’s dark cheeks have darkened further.

“You’re really hot and sometimes it’s so distracting and I end up just staring at your arms or your back muscles or your thighs and wiping dr- _umph!”_ Casca pulls Farnese down, kisses her until Farnese is squirming to right herself, to explain herself further. Casca lets her sit back up, hair now more mussed than before, lips pink.

“Dear God.”

 

Casca snorts. “Just Casca for you.” She winks.

 

“Oh you!” Farnese huffs and goes down for another kiss, swallowing Casca’s chuckles with ease.

 

Hands continue to wander, to touch, to caress. Farnese slides hers under Casca’s shirt to tease at the edges of her sports bra. Casca slides her entirely under Farnese’s skirt, teasingly tickling the lace of Farnese’s thigh-highs.

 

“For the record,” Casca whispers, nibbling Farnese’s lip. “Watching you in clothes like these kills me.”

“In a good way I hope,” Farnese huffs, shuddering as Casca’s nails drag down her thigh.

“Entirely so,” Casca murmurs and kisses her once more. “But what was that about my muscles? You like them? Should I flex for you?” She’s grinning as she does exactly that, wrapping her bare arms around her partner and lifting.

 

Farnese squeaks as their positions are reversed, her on her back on the couch, skirts up around her waist and Casca hovering over her with a pleased little smirk.

“Fffff,” Farnese tries.

 

“Didn’t even break a sweat, lifting a little flower like you,” Casca murmurs and leans down. They kiss lazily, sloppily, breaking down into little chuckles and gasps. Casca’s hands tickle Farnese’s thighs. “For the record, babe, the thigh-highs? Should wear them more often. They bring my gaze instantly to my favourite part of your body,” she whispers and snaps open a garter.

 

Something warm flutters inside Farnese’s chest. “Your thighs are my favourite part of your body,” she huffs, reaching to grab Casca’s wrist before it goes any further. “As are your arms.” Farnese’s cheeks are still burning bright and Casca’s gaze on her is heavy but still Farnese brings the dark wrist to her lips and kisses it, then kisses further up the arm, laying down little nibbles and tiny, soft compliments that make Casca smile.

 

Until Farnese reaches a bicep. Then she bites down, soothes the sting with a quick tongue. “You’re so strong, Casca,” she murmurs. She nuzzles the warm, brown skin. “In every meaning of the word.”

 

“Babe,” Casca says, her voice rough.  

 

But Farnese wants to do this, she wants to say all these things. She takes Casca’s other arm and repeats the kisses, the words, the licks. Casca shifts on top of her, spreading Farnese’s thighs to better accommodate herself.

 

Casca rolls her hips and Farnese stutters, breath hitching in her throat.

“S-shirt. Shirt off,” she whispers and meets Casca’s mouth in a kiss. Together they manouever their shirts off, their arms instantly around each other afterwards. Farnese maps the entire powerful length of Casca’s back.

“Fuck,” she whispers.

 

Casca’s hips jolt against her.

“You’re so gorgeous, Farnese,” Casca whispers back, easily snapping open the back of Farnese’s intricate lacy bra.

 

Farnese flushes deeper but lets Casca toss them off the couch, pulls Casca to another deep, passionate kiss. She shudders as Casca’s warm, calloused hands cup her bare breasts.

 

“You’re perfect, babe,” Casca whispers against her mouth and gives a little squeeze.

Farnese whines. "I'm not finished yet," she tries but she's already gently nudged back down on her back to the couch, Casca settling more sternly on top of her. 

"We're not in a hurry," Casca says. "And besides, you turned me on so now I gotta tell you just how beautiful you are." 

Farnese whines again, her hips jolting. She nods. "Your hands are already on my boobs, so-"

Casca chuckles. And lowers her head, her mouth finding the curve of the breast easily. "They fit so well into my hands," she whispers and presses kisses, nibbles on the sensitive skin until Farnese squirms. "I've always loved breasts, always loved finding the ways I could make others squirm like this. Yours are so nice." Casca keeps a steady pressure with her hand on the other breast. Her tongue twirls around an areola. 

Farnese squeaks. She hides her face behind her hands.

“No need to be shy, babe,” Casca murmurs and flicks a nipple. “It’s all good.” She takes the hardened bud into her mouth, delights in the way she can make it even harder, how the breast bounces when Casca lets the nipple plop out from between her lips. She licks it again, then moves on to nuzzle the warm space between the breasts, to press more kisses and kitten licks. Farnese’s hands have found her short hair by now and are tugging it. “In my opinion this is the second best place to be for a woman. Any woman,” Casca purrs. “Who appreciates the wonders of another woman.” With a curious little grin she grabs both breasts and pushes them, accentuating the already reasonable cleavage.

Farnese makes an odd strangled sound. “What are you even doing?!”

Casca nibbles on the skin under her, flushed pink and hot to the touch. “Sorry, too much?” She gives the poor white-pink breast an apologetic squeeze and then slides lower.

“No, of course not,” Farnese says, withdrawing her other hand while the other pushes Casca lower. “Just surprised me.”

“Good, because I have a lot more to say,” Casca says and pulls Farnese’s skirt further up, until it’s a useless piece of fabric bunched high up around Farnese’s waist.

“Cas-“ Farnese gasps as Casca leans forward, nuzzling the front of Farnese’s warm and damp panties.

“And here’s my number one place to be,” Casca says, voice tingling with amusement. Her hands settle around Farnese’s thighs. “Don’t sell yourself short, babe, your body is nothing to sneeze at. Especially here.”

Farnese hides her face again, tries to get breathing back into control but it’s impossible when Casca is so comfortably snuggled between her thighs.

“I wasn’t- it wasn’t- can you just-“ words stumble on each other and come out all wrong. But Casca seems to still understand. She hums and tugs the panties down.

“Oh, hello,” she chuckles.

“Don’t talk,” Farnese huffs, eyes tightly shut.

Casca hums again and leans onwards. Farnese’s moan is breathless.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is sso selfindulgent dear god


End file.
